


Finish Him

by psychthriller



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Don't Judge Me, F/M, Female Reader, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Masturbation in Shower, Reader is a Legend, Reader-Insert, S&M, Shower Sex, fuckin' when you're supposed to be fightin', jk i am trash, kraber is trash, listen this is just my own personal wish-fulfillment trash, reader is a total femme fatale, reader is female, that legendary finisher makes me feel Some Type of Way, ugh this fucking game has ruined my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-01-30 23:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21436195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychthriller/pseuds/psychthriller
Summary: You laughed nervously. “Okay, you did kinda scare the fuck out of me. Only a little bit, though.”Something about his expression changed, but you weren’t quite sure which part of your sentence had caused it.“There’s that dirty mouth again.”Oh. That.You couldn’t help but gasp when he extended his hand, for half a second you thought you were about to get choked again — which, honestly, sounded pretty good to you. But instead, he reached out and brushed those weird cybernetic fingers across your upper arm, swiping a little glob of bubbles off your shoulder. Apparently you missed some when you were drying off.Is he…flirting?-------------Reader is an Apex Legend with powers that rely on attraction -- both magnetic and physical. Crypto's legendary finisher gets her feeling all hot & bothered, but it's nothing a nice shower and a little target practice can't fix...as long as her mouth doesn't get her in trouble first.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Female Reader, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Reader
Comments: 42
Kudos: 157





	1. Animal Magnetism

**Author's Note:**

> Fear not, the next chapter of Spider Byte is on its way! I just had to get this self-serving trash out of my brain first, pardon my bullshit. We'll be back to your regularly-scheduled Crypto/Mirage filth shortly! The next chapter is long AF but that damn legendary finisher with the drone scan has RUINED ME okay, and I had to make it stop so uh, here's this shit to hold you over for the time being.

“Mother_fucker!”_

You couldn’t help but let it slip out as you missed your _fourth_ kraber shot. Before you could decide whether to risk taking the time to reload it, you felt an excruciating burning sensation — one you were starting to get quite familiar with, unfortunately — searing your chest. Then a huge beam of energy knocked you right on your ass.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

“Silva, I’m down!” you yelled over the comms.

Nothing. _Dammit, Silva._ The radio was silent, but you could hear the sound of gunfire nearby, followed by the unmistakable sound of your team mate somewhere in the distance, launching himself into the air and whooping like a madman.

“Mmkay, well I’m just gonna…crawl in this building and hope you save the day, buddy.“ Not like there were a whole lot of other options with that charge rifle still trying to hit you. “Watch out for that fucker with the drone, he’s got a charge rifle.”

There was a chance Octane might be able to down the both of them on his own, but that was only if the new guy and his “eye in the sky” were distracted. Another huge beam of light blew a hole in the concrete just above your head.

_Yep, time to go._

You crawled out of the way of another blast of energy.

_Fuck, dude. You really still shooting me? _

_He should go after Silva, we’d be done for. Guess he really likes to finish the job._

Pushing the doors shut behind you, you pulled yourself into the building’s cover, blocking the doorway so if someone came after you, they’d have to kick it down to get inside. Propped up against the wall, you carefully peer around the corner, through the door’s glass window. The moment you do, another charge rifle blast comes your way, thankfully blocked by the door itself.

_Jeez, buddy. You're not gonna help Path take down Octane? The fuck?  
_

It was odd. The new guy was kind of a ghost — you didn’t know him well, because he wasn’t exactly the type to hang out in the ship’s common room between matches, and he definitely wasn’t interested in holding a conversation with anyone. Outside the ring, he was all one-word answers and no eye contact. In the ring, you got a little more direct eye contact and some actual sentences out of him, but he spoke softly and infrequently, unless Elliott was doing a really good job of pissing him off, which would occasionally prompt a snarky comeback. He was kind of a weirdo, honestly. Always kept to himself, stayed in his room, never had the door open. Even Caustic would leave his door open, sometimes…

…probably just hoping Natalie might come by with some sort of science-related query, but still. Caustic was the unfriendliest guy on the squad, it took actual_ effort_ to be more of an unfriendly asshole than him. Somehow the new guy was managing it, though. Outside the ring he was standoffish as hell.

But inside the ring? Shit, he actually _was_ a ghost — and you were too, once he found you. You’d hear the sound of that annoying little drone somewhere nearby and then moments later he’d appear out of _fucking nowhere_ and wreck your whole squad. He wasn’t exactly a team player, but it was definitely better being on his squad than going up against it. Duos made it slightly easier to take him down, but then again it meant your squad was easier to finish off, too.

Park was nothing if not efficient. He’d zap you with the EMP — a sensation you were already getting way too familiar with — then pop up out of the shadows and finish you off so quick you barely knew what was happening. If he downed someone from 150 meters away, though, he tended to just let them crawl around while he hunted down the other team mate with his squadmates.

This was duos, there was only one other team mate. So it was sort of weird that Park was still so focused on frying you with a laser beam, as opposed to helping Pathfinder chase Silva down instead.

Then you heard the drone.

_Shitshitshit—_

It wasn’t exactly a _pained_ cry you made when the thing hit you — you really were starting to get used to that EMP. It wasn’t the most effective weapon and it definitely didn’t hurt like that charge rifle, thank god. Still, the involuntary noises you always ended up making as you lay on the floor with your muscles spasming from electricity — those were always kind of embarrassing. Especially because of the insufferable smirk on the fucker’s face whenever he was near enough to actually witness it. Which he definitely was — you could hear his footsteps outside.

You tried to recover from the taser-like shock of the EMP, but the thing seemed to make your muscles short-circuit, and you couldn’t move very far. You pulled yourself behind a desk just as an arc star landed on the doors you’d been blocking with your body.

_Well, that’s one way to get them open. Dammit._

The drone was scanning, but you were thankfully blocked from its view by the desk, and it somehow managed to miss you despite having already hit you with the EMP. You heard it gliding up the stairs to scan the second floor instead.

_Whew. Lucky break._ You’re about one hit from turning into a deathbox, but at least he doesn’t know exactly where you are yet.

The footsteps, however, were still on the first floor with you, so you weren’t out of the woods yet. If he heard the noise that EMP dragged out of you, you might be fucked. You held your breath as you heard him cross the threshold, your muscles still a little shaky from the EMP blast, willing yourself not to make another sound.

Your makeshift hiding place wasn’t very effective.

“Some people run from something that’s not after them. But for you, I was.”

_Well aren’t you just soooooo edgy. Seriously, what the fuck does that even mean?_

You didn’t have long to ponder the thought, because a second later, he was peering over the top of the desk, looking right at you, with that irritatingly smug smile on his lips.

_Welp, this is about to suck._

Grabbing you under the elbow and dragging you out from behind the desk, he let you collapse to the floor in front of him on your hands and knees. You were shaking a little, but that was definitely only because of that _fucking EMP—_

_“Mmngh!”_

The sound that escaped you when he reached out to seize you by the throat and drag you into a kneeling position was also definitely because of the EMP, too. Totally.

Well, kind of.

When Park heard it, he froze.

_God, this is so embarrassing. Just kill me already, holy shit._

He was dragging it out _way_ more than usual. His drone had already finished scanning your eyeball, this was definitely the part where its owner was supposed to smash you in the face with it.

You waited, bracing for the impact, but it never came. You could feel your face turning red, too — and it wasn’t from the hacker’s hand around your throat, which wasn’t squeezing particularly hard. You could feel him staring at you, and this was usually the part where you glared up at him and vowed to get revenge during the next match. But for some reason, this time you couldn’t quite bring yourself to meet his eyes. Your hands had instinctively come up to grab his wrist as he reached for your throat, but you couldn't decide if you were trying to pull it off or keep it there.

You bit your lip. _Oh my god just DO IT already, fuck! What is this shit?!_

“Look at me.”

_Are you fucking serious right now?_

Yeah, your face was definitely getting red.

The artificially-enhanced hand around your throat tightened its grip, and your vision went a little fuzzy around the edges. At least you finally had an excuse for how red your cheeks suddenly were.

“I said _look at me.”_

And you did, immediately, because something about the way he’d said it made it a command you just couldn’t bring yourself to disobey. You looked up.

“That’s better,” he said, with an expression on his face like you’d never seen before. Well, you'd _seen_ it before. Just never on _him._

He released your throat and you collapsed forward, still on your knees, reaching out blindly for something to lean against to keep you from just crumpling to his feet as you gasped for oxygen.

The problem was that the something you grabbed was the back of his thigh, and you were leaning your forehead against the front of it as you tried to catch your breath. You were still kneeling there in front of him, and he wasn’t holding you there anymore, and you should _definitely_ be crawling away right now, or at least trying to. But you don’t. 

You just…_don’t._

You feel the strange (but not unpleasant) sensation of synthetic skin against your cheek when he reaches down and gently tilts your chin up. You don’t want to look him in the eye again but you know that’s what he wants so you do it anyway, like a fucking idiot. His thumb strokes across your bottom lip, and later you will tell yourself that you didn’t mean to suck it into your mouth and stroke it with your tongue. But you do that anyway, because you actually _are_ a fucking idiot, apparently.

It’s worth it, though, for the look on his face. When you run your tongue over the subdermal sensor implanted in the pad of his thumb, you can feel him shudder at the sensation. The way he’s looking at you now makes your heart skip a few beats, and the area between your thighs has suddenly gone rather warm and tingly.

“Shit,” you gasp, when he finally slips his thumb out of your mouth.

Then that strange, half-synthetic hand is stroking through your hair and whatever the fuck is happening right now, it ain’t combat. You’ve never seen him like this, it’s a little scary.

“Always such filthy things coming out of that mouth,” he muses. “Perhaps I need to teach it a lesson.”

_Well shit, mark me down as scared and horny._

Yeah, this is _definitely_ not combat. There aren’t a whole lot of things that don’t fly in the ring, violence-wise, but you’re pretty sure that _fucking the goddamn enemy_ is generally frowned upon, maybe even against the rules. You should probably pump the brakes on this, wherever the hell it’s going.

But the hand gently petting your hair feels so _nice_ and the look on his face is so goddamned _sinful_ that what ends up actually coming out of your mouth is, “Yeah, maybe you do.”

His hand fists your hair, yanking roughly and eliciting a shocked little gasp from you.

And that’s when you notice his dick is hard. 

Like, _hard_-hard.

Like, _straining-against-his-pants_-hard.

_Fuck._ You instinctively lick your lips, giving him a desperate sort of look.

Naturally, that’s when you hear Silva come bounding into the room to save the day.

_Shit!_

Park downs Octavio with a single bullet from his hemlock, without even moving his eyes from your face — or his hand from your hair.

_Okay, that was…kind of hot._

_Note to self: single-fire hemlock fuckin’ slaps, god damn. Definitely gotta pick one of those up next time…_

Then he leans down close so that only you can hear him, growling, _“Miahnhe,_ it’s a shame I have to finish you off so quickly.” He releases your hair, and then that fucking drone is smashing into your face.

Everything goes black.

_Ow._

You wake up on the drop ship with a splitting headache, feeling…some type of way.

_Did that seriously just happen?_ You’re praying that Octane didn’t get a good look at the two of you before Crypto put a bullet in his head. Silva’s already jumped off the bed where he respawned, bounding over to yours.

“Sorry _amiga,_ I tried! That _pendejo_ is pretty quick on the draw.” That’s really saying something, because being quick on the draw — quick at everything, really — is kind of Octane’s thing. But he seems as chipper as ever, and not particularly scarred for life by what he witnessed, so you’re pretty sure he didn’t notice that Park’s hand was tangled in your _hair_ during that finisher, instead of around your neck. Hopefully he also didn’t notice the look on your face…

…or the _raging fucking hard-on_ in Park’s pants.

You slap Silva on the shoulder. “No worries, buddy. If I could aim that fuckin’ kraber, it wouldn’t have happened like that. We’ll get him next time. I’m gonna hit up that new firing range later, see if I can’t figure that thing out. We still on for drinks tonight?”

Octane laughs. _“Si,_ of course! Good luck, _jaira!_ I believe in you!”

“That makes one of us,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing the spot where the charge rifle got you as you watch Silva bounce down the hall. He’s probably off to go bug Ajay, those two seemed pretty close. Next time you play trios, you’re definitely teaming up with them. That shady new guy would have been_ fucked_ if you’d had Ajay around to pick your ass up. Having 2/3 of your squad able to regenerate health was a huge advantage.

You rub at your sternum again. The wounds on your chest are gone, but your skin still stings where the energy blast hit you.

_Fucker._

Yeah, you’re definitely hitting the firing range later this week.

—————

Park and Pathfinder win the game, because of course they do. You expected nothing less.

_Kind of unfair for both robots to play on the same team._ You might be feeling a little bit bitter about that charge rifle take-down.

You wait around until everyone has cleared out of the locker room before you start the shower. Nobody really showers in here unless they’ve just played a match that got so dirty they don’t want to track filth into the ship, which isn't that often. Everyone has a bathroom of their own, in their room, but the one in the locker room is huge, and sometimes it’s nice to go in there once everybody’s gone and just…decompress.

Okay, also the acoustics in there are really good. You like to sing, so what? Nobody can keep up the whole lethal mercenary act 24/7. Plus you can actually carry a tune, according to Elliott. He said you have a nice voice, and he’d know, since his own voice never shuts the fuck up, like, _ever._

_I don't wanna waste no time, yeah_  
_You ain't got a one-track mind, yeah_  
_Have it any way you like, yeah_  
_And I can tell that you know I know how I want it_

Alright, maybe you also like really old, shitty pop music from like, hundreds of years ago. So what? Not like anybody’s gonna hear it. 

_Ain't nobody else can relate_  
_Boy, I like that you ain't afraid_  
_Baby, lay me down and let's pray_  
_I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it_

It’s not like you do this all the time, or anything. The singing part is usually confined to the shower in your own room. And taste-wise, you’re more of a Nine Inch Nails kinda gal, whenit comes to old music. Usually.

The chorus to the song is just really, really catchy.

_You, you love it how I move you_  
_You love it how I touch you_  
_My one, when all is said and done_  
_You'll believe God is a woman_  
_And I, I feel it after midnight_  
_A feelin' that you can't fight_  
_My one, it lingers when we're done_  
_You'll believe God is a woman_

You harmonize a little bit, because it’s fun, and hitting each complementary note is kind of like nailing a headshot in the ring — when you do it right, it feels awesome. And it’s easy, because the song is written in a key that comfortably fits your natural vocal range. Well, and because you majored in music tech in college, so you know what you’re doing. You’ve always had an ear for harmonies — and a voice for them, too.

_I’ll tell you all the things you should know_  
_So, baby, take my hand, save your soul_  
_We can make it last, take it slow, hmm_  
_And I can tell that you know I know how I want it, yeah_

Seriously, the acoustics in this room are fuckin’ sweet. Your voice resonates pleasantly throughout the locker room, bouncing off the tiled walls and back to your ears. You might be showing off a little bit. Might be getting a little bit loud. But so what? It’s not like anyone’s around to make fun of you for it, anyway. Plus, your favorite verse is coming up.

_But you're different from the rest_  
_And boy, if you confess, you might get blessed_  
_See if you deserve what comes next_  
_I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it_

You finish shaving your legs, humming along to the rest of the song. When you’ve finally got all the conditioner out of your hair, you press the button to turn off the sonic shower’s stream of water. Once you’ve toweled most of the moisture out of your hair, you wrap the towel around your chest and step out of the enormous shower room. 

When you turn the corner, you can’t help but scream.

“JESUS _FUCK,_ DUDE!”

Park is right the fuck there, just…_standing_ there, right outside the shower. He’s also naked, you realize. Well, almost. With the exception of the towel wrapped around his waist and those weird necklaces he’s always wearing, that is. He’s also laughing at you.

_“Miahnhe,_ I didn’t mean to scare you,” he’s still snickering, which makes you doubt that statement a little bit. You realize you’ve never heard him laugh before.

You’ve also never seen him out of that big white coat he’s always wearing and, until quite recently, you never thought about what might be underneath it. If you’d had to guess, you would have guessed he was on the thin side. Nobody who plays a fucking bloodsport on the regular is going to be scrawny, per se, but _shit,_ you weren’t expecting _this._

_God, he’s…really hot. _

You’re attempting to regain control of your brain, but you’re struggling. You had wondered for a while how far down that black stuff on his neck went, and now you know — it stops at his collarbones. But that big jacket of his had been keeping some secrets as well, apparently, because Park is fucking _ripped._ He’s lean, certainly — not a hulking mass of muscle like Caustic or Gibby — but holy _shit,_ there is definitely more muscle there than you’d been expecting, and a part of you feels vaguely sad that you couldn’t see his forearm flex when he’d choked you in the ring earlier. An even bigger part of you can’t stop staring at the trail of soft, dark hair that starts below his navel and ends…somewhere under that towel. A very, very large part of you is curious to see exactly where it leads, and what kind of secrets are hiding under that towel.

Once you’ve retrieved your jaw from the floor, you recover your voice.

“You didn’t _scare_ me,” you say, a little more defensively than intended. “Just didn’t know anyone else was in here, is all. Nobody really uses this thing, usually. ‘cept me.” You nod towards the entrance to the shower. “Sorry if I, uh, kept you waiting.”

You’re blushing harder than you had been in the ring earlier, which is saying something. It’s annoying as hell, too, because he can definitely tell, and he _definitely_ heard the singing and _Jesus fuckin’ Christ,_ you could have at least been singing something badass. Of _course_ this guy happens to show up the one time you’re not singing some dark, fucked-up, vaguely-threatening NIN lyrics. Of fuckin’ course.

“I don’t mind,” he says, pausing before adding, “You have a pretty voice.”

Your cheeks are so hot it feels like you got hit in the face with that charge rifle, not the chest. This is highly irritating because it’s dumb as actual fuck that this weird new no-name legend — _seriously, who even is this guy?_ — is making a seasoned badass like yourself blush, especially over something as stupid as hearing the words “you” and “pretty” together in a sentence coming out of his mouth. 

_Especially_ because he’s not even talking about your body or your face, he’s just talking about your voice. Your face is pretty, too — you’re not being vain, it’s literally your job to be attractive. Just like Octane’s thing is being fast, and Caustic’s thing is being a creepy asshole, and Renee’s thing is being spooky as actual fuck — everybody has their schtick in the arena. Yours is being attractive — literally and metaphorically. Fatal Attraction, your ultimate, powers up an insanely strong magnet that can polarize anything metal you aim it at (including the enemy’s weapon) within a certain range, pulling it towards you faster than Pathfinder’s grapple. The unlucky person on the other side then had to choose between letting go of their gun, or holding on to it and getting pulled right into your line of fire. Your tactical, Personal Space, did the opposite. Both took a good bit of time to charge and had a limited range, which is why you hadn’t sent Crypto flying backwards or pulled him into your gun the second he pointed the charge rifle at you — your skills were valuable, but only at close range. They were highly ineffective against snipers and drone-piloting jerks with charge rifles.

That’s where the whole, “being physically (as opposed to magnetically) attractive” part came into play. Your best option in a sniping situation was to get them distracted and make them give chase, abandoning their position to come after you. Once they got in range of your magnets, it was over. So you did what you had to, in terms of…pulling people in who weren’t close enough. Wild costumes seemed to work well, especially when they showed a little skin. The guys — well, except Makoa, obviously — fell for that shit every fuckin’ time. You’d feign a dramatic fall, _a la_ Mirage, to make them think they hit you when they hadn’t. Then you crawled to cover, and they inevitably fell for it, following you to their doom…possibly in the hopes of witnessing some sort of wardrobe malfunction as they took you down.

Thing was, it was usually you doing the take-downs. They’d come wandering into whatever place they’d seen you crawl to, turn to look in the direction they’d seen you go, find themselves face-to-face with the business end of your devotion, and be downed almost instantly. Then you’d take them out with your legendary finisher, Kiss of Death, which was your favorite way to add insult to injury. Not unlike Park’s own finisher, you’d have them on their knees with a hand around their throat. But instead of a retina scan and a whack to the face with a drone, you’d lean down, bring your lips almost close enough to brush theirs, make them think their wishes were about to be fulfilled, and then put a bullet in their brain just when they thought they were about to get what they wanted.

And with the exception of Gibby and Path, everyone fell for it, all the fuckin’ time. Elliott in particular absolutely _loved_ squadding up with you, but he hated encountering you as an enemy, for obvious reasons. Pretty things were kind of his weakness. Even his aggressively-charming ass wasn’t immune to the charms of yours. And when it was time for that finisher, you could see it in his eyes — his expression said “worth it” and you knew he’d be back for more the next match. They _always_ came back for more.

That’s why your Apex alias was “Honeypot.”

But this new guy, Crypto, was a hard nut to crack. You were actually starting to wonder if it was another Makoa situation, honestly — the way you caught him looking at Elliott sometimes certainly seemed to support that theory.

But now, that’s how he was looking at _you._

“Uh, thanks. I didn’t expect to…have an audience.” You finally felt capable of looking him in the eye for a second, but when you did, you suddenly couldn’t breathe.

_Pretty sure your face is prettier than my voice, dude. _

You laughed nervously. “Okay, you _did_ kinda scare the fuck out of me. Only a little bit, though.”

Something about his expression changed, but you weren’t quite sure which part of your sentence had caused it.

“There’s that dirty mouth again.”

_Oh. That._

You couldn’t help but gasp when he extended his hand, for half a second you thought you were about to get choked again — which, honestly, sounded pretty good to you. But instead, he reached out and brushed those weird cybernetic fingers across your upper arm, swiping a little glob of bubbles off your shoulder. Apparently you missed some when you were drying off.

_Is he…flirting?_

“You sure you really got clean in there?” He gestured to the shower, that devious smirk back on his face as he spoke. 

_Oh my god, he’s totally DTF._

Before you could say anything back, you heard the door to the locker room slide open.

“Honeypot, are you in here?” You jerked with surprise at the sound of the robot’s voice. “Octane told me to tell you we are leaving without you if you don't hurry up, friend. He says Mirage is buying!” You could distantly hear Elliott yelling, _“No I’m fucking not, stop saying that!”_

_Oh, right, drinks._

“On my way, Path. Tell Silva to try and sit still for five whole minutes while I get dressed.” Getting dressed was kind of the last thing you wanted to do, honestly.

“Will do, friend.“ The door closed.

“Have a nice night.” Park said in that annoyingly-pretty voice of his.

“Have a nice shower,” you replied with a sly grin. You’d finally gotten your heart to stop bouncing around in your chest long enough to fire back with a little flirtatiousness. 

“Oh, I intend to,” he said, that weird optical implant zeroing in on your body as he looked you up and down. The way he looked at you as he said it made you flush again.

Then he _winked,_ which was something you’d never seen him do before. You’d also never heard him actually speak this much — he was near-silent in the arena most of the time. It drove you nuts during matches, he’d just ignore people over the comms. 

_He sure is talkative today._

He stepped around you, heading for the shower. You thought the conversation was over once he disappeared into the shower room, but then he spoke again.

“Try to keep that mouth out of trouble. If you can.”

You laughed. “No fuckin’ promises.”

——————

As much as you would have preferred to spend the next hour or so doing terribly inappropriate things in the locker room, you didn’t really have much of a choice about going to the bar. It served more than one purpose — a place to observe and collect a little more intel on some of your fellow legends…

…and also a place where you could discreetly meet with your contact from the Syndicate to report that intel. It had been a while since you’d given them an update, and you definitely had some…interesting developments to report about a legend they seemed very, _very_ interested in.

You weren’t sure why they were so interested in him, but with how much you were getting paid for this job, you didn’t really give a damn. And now that job was about to get a whole lot easier, because your target was practically doing it for you. After that little…_encounter_ in the ring, and whatever that was in the locker room afterwards, you were absolutely positive you’d caught his attention. A part of you wondered what would have happened if Octane and Pathfinder hadn’t interrupted both times, because for a minute there, Park had looked like he was struggling to keep his hands to himself...

At the bar, you slipped away from your fellow legends — vaguely wondering if Pathfinder could _actually_ get drunk — and spotted your contact sitting at a booth in the corner of the bar. Taking a seat across from the strange masked man, you smiled — or tried to. He made you a little bit nervous, honestly, because you’d never _actually_ seen his face. He was nice enough, but something about being in his presence made you feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The ridiculous amount of legend tokens he transferred to your account each time you met, however, made you very _very_ comfortable. You put on a brave face and relay the new info you've uncovered, handing him the drive containing your most recent notes. There was a song playing over the speakers, and it was familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

_Help me_  
_I broke apart my insides_  
_Help me_  
_I've got no soul to sell_  
_Help me_  
_The only thing that works for me_  
_Help me get away from myself_

“I’m in, by the way. With the new guy, I mean. Well, not _in_-in, but I’m pretty sure I’m about to be. He’s definitely interested in…something. I’ll keep you posted.”

The mysterious man sitting across from you nods. “Good. Please do.”

Eager to get the fuck away from the guy, you smiled at him with as much charm as you could muster when you got up from the booth. You were ready to rejoin the other legends, lest one of them come looking for you and wonder why you’re sitting with some random creep.

“See you around. Uh, thanks. Until meet again.” You waved a little awkwardly.

The masked man nodded. 

“We will. Soon.”

Walking back Silva and the rest, you finally recognized the music that was playing. It was a remix of a Nine Inch Nails song, one you knew well.

_I want to fuck you like an animal_  
_I want to feel you from the inside_  
_I want to fuck you like an animal_  
_My whole existence is flawed_  
_You get me closer to god_


	2. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You'd let me fuck you right here, wouldn't you? Right up against this wall, _hmm?_ Filthy thing," he growls right up in your ear, rolling his hips forward and making you moan when you feel how hard he is. He's thumbing the crook of your arm, and you feel his dick throb against your stomach when he finds what he's looking for: the small subdermal birth control device that's implanted beneath the skin near the inside of your elbow. "I bet you'd let me cum inside, too."
> 
> _Oh my god. Fuck yes I would._
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> Reader snags a sweet headshot and some even sweeter head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a mess, y'all. Sorry for the slow updates, dealing with some IRL nonsense. Next Spider Byte chapter is done, just being edited, so that'll be up this week some time. Thanks for your patience, and enjoy chapter 2 of this clusterfuck. Next chapter will be moar smut + the end, but y'all know my crazy ass can't stfu ever, so who knows, there might be a sequel :D
> 
> Also, sorry everything I write lately is a goddamned Nine Inch Nails songfic, but if you haven't watched the video for Closer, [here's a link!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTFwQP86BRs) This video is N!S!F!W! Encountering it as a teen greatly influenced much of my fucked-up sexual proclivities, and continues to do so to this very day. Proceed with (relative) caution, but it's definitely worth a watch IMO, so that you're not totally lost when this video is mentioned in the fic. It also, uh, captures the overall tone of this chapter pretty well. Fun fact: the song isn't actually about sex, believe it or not.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this filth. Moar soon.

"God fucking dammit!” your voice echoes through the range. 

_ It's a fucking dummy, it's not even moving! Jesus, are you a professional or not? _

“Fuck this gun in the ass!” you yell, to nobody in particular. “Uh, figuratively."

Octane is laughing at you over the comms, and you briefly consider aiming your next shot at him, instead of the practice dummie. You're at the new firing range with the rest of the team, cursing that stupid kraber as you miss yet another shot. 

It's a huge gun, to be fair. It's heavy as _ fuck, _ too, and you don't have very big arms. You're standing on the highest platform you can reach, the one with the random target on it that Silva tells you is capable of catapulting you onto the giant leviathan skeleton that looms above the range, if you knock it down and stand on it juuuust right. You're not aiming at that target, though -- you’re aiming at one of the stationary red practice dummies that stands on the ground below.

"Need a hand?" comes a voice just behind you, making you jump so hard you nearly drop the gun over the edge of the platform.

_ Where the fuck did he come from? _

"Dude, how do you keep doing that?" Zip lines are usually pretty loud. 

Park shrugs. "The element of surprise is a valuable asset in the ring."

You give him a skeptical look. "Uh-huh. Well, if you'll excuse me, I've got a target dummie to shoot." Well, to _ try _ to shoot. _ Stupid kraber. _ You turn back to the enormous gun, aiming down the sights at the dummie that's furthest away from you.

Suddenly Park is right behind you, saying "Let me show you," and then your back is pressed against his chest, his chin is resting on your left shoulder and those bizarre-looking hands are cupping yours, helping you aim the huge weapon. His hands are warm, and you hate yourself just a little bit for how much you enjoy the way they feel.

_ Oh my god, get it together, me! _

Breathing normally has suddenly become quite difficult, because he's so close that you can smell him, and he smells fucking _ good, _ and you can feel his warm breath against the left side of your throat when he murmurs, "Relax. You're too tense, that's the problem."

_ Oh I'm TENSE am I? Gee, can't fuckin' imagine why, buddy. _

"Take a deep breath," he says softly.

He breathes in, and so do you. He has an annoyingly nice voice, you've decided -- like, so nice you'd happily listen to him read the back of a cereal box. 

"Now exhale all the way before you fire." 

You both breathe out, and for some reason you're blushing. You're pretty sure you'd be shaking, too, if his hands weren't steadying yours.

"Take your time," he whispers, mouth so close to your ear that his breath is giving you goosebumps. "You're not in any rush. You only have a few shots. When you're ready, squeeze the trigger. Gently."

Centering your crosshairs on the dummie's head, you take another shuddering breath -- you know he can feel it, _ god dammit _ \-- and exhale every last bit of air from your lungs before carefully pulling the trigger.

"Shit!" you curse when you miss again.

_ "Shhhh," _ he hushes you, goosebumps popping up everywhere his warm breath touches. "You were close. Try again."

_ It would help if you could stop breathing down my neck, like, literally. _Good thing no one can really see the two of you all the way up here.

You each take another steadying breath, exhaling in unison. Letting your chest fully deflate, you set your sights on the dummie's head once more. There's a brief pause, neither of you moving or making a sound.

"Now," he murmurs softly, his lips only millimeters away from the shell of your left ear.

You gently squeeze the trigger.

The kraber kicks like a mule, recoil knocking you back against Park's chest a little as the dummie crumples to the ground with a satisfying sound you don't often get to hear: the telltale shattering of a broken shield combined with the satisfying _ thwap _ of an enemy being downed by a headshot. The downed dummie fades to nothing like an empty deathbox, only to be replaced by another identical practice dummie moments later.

Before you can even react, Park whispers, "Beautiful," against the nape of your neck, lips just barely brushing against your skin. Then he rests his chin back on your shoulder. "Again."

You shudder a little, but you're determined to do as he says, so you let your eyes fall shut, taking another deep breath and letting all the tension out of your body as you exhale, your back still pressed firmly against his chest.

It feels like someone has turned the volume down on the entire Frontier, like everything outside this little platform has disappeared. The whole universe has narrowed down to this very moment, this very spot, where it's just you and this gun and Park's deep, delicious voice right in your ear as he holds you so close you can feel his heartbeat.

You squeeze the trigger, nailing the dummie with a flawless headshot and hitting it for nearly 300 damage. You watch as it falls to the ground and fades away just like the one before it.

_ Fuck yeah! _

"Perfect," Park growls into your shoulder.

You gasp, because then his lips are on your skin, and you're letting the gun fall to the platform with a loud thunk so you can reach back and slide your fingers through his hair as he drags his lips along your shoulder, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the side of your neck. Your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder, giving him better access to the soft skin of your throat. His hands have drifted down to your hips, pulling them back against his own.

You can't help but whimper when you feel his teeth graze your skin, and that's when you notice just how fucking hard he is, every inch of his desire pressed up against your ass. He groans against your neck when you roll your hips back a little.

You're just about to turn around and bring your lips together when Silva's voice crackles in over the comms.

"Yo, Honeypot, Crypto, you guys comin'? Hurry up already _ amigos, _ we're gonna be late for the next match! _ Vamonos!" _

_ God. Fucking. Dammit. Silva! _

You whine, and feel Park chuckling behind you. 

"So impatient," he growls in your ear before releasing you.

You turn to face him, hoping you look slightly less flustered than you currently feel.

"Thanks for the sniping lesson. Still waiting for that lesson you were gonna teach my mouth, though," you say with a wicked grin.

His expression darkens, but before he can reply, you've already hopped the zipline, dropping to the ground and jogging ahead to catch up to Octane.

\------

"This game is fucking rigged, I swear," you grumble. 

_ "Sssh!" _ Elliott hushes you, which is absolutely _ rich _ coming from him.

"Imagine making a game where you're supposed to shoot people, and forgetting to put any FUCKING GUNS in it," you whisper-yell.

The two of you landed at the Train Yard, for some unfathomable reason, and it's a god damn clusterfuck -- people absolutely everywhere, guns absolutely nowhere. You've got a shield and Elliott has his wingman, but that's about it. Currently, the two of you are hiding in a bush a few dozen meters away from the action, waiting out the fight in the hopes of scavenging some leftover loot and third-partying the survivors. Y'know, like total badasses. 

"I'm just glad we got paired together today, for once. Fighting you sucks, girl."

You laugh. "Not my fault you can't control yourself, Witt."

_ "Me?! _ I'm not what's out of control, that ass of yours, however-- _ ow, _ hey!" He yelps when you punch his arm playfully. "That zipper down the front of your suit is like, _ begging _ to get pulled down…"

"Try it, see what happens," you snap.

Elliott pouts. "I'm just saying, you might wanna consider wearing something less revel--reveal--uhh, less _ fuckin' sexy, _ if you want me to pay attention to the stuff I'm supposed to be shooting at."

You roll your eyes. "I think you'll survive."

Then you see him. Park. The fighting has died down and he's just standing there in the middle of the train tracks, looting a deathbox. You're dying to sneak up on him for once, but you're unarmed and pretty useless at long range, anyway. Even if you borrow Elliott's Wingman, that fuckin' drone is gonna spot you the second you get close enough to hit him with it, way before he’s in range of your magnetic pull.

Scanning the nearby area and deeply wishing for an unopened lootcrate to materialize before your eyes, you spot a care package. It's near the train yard's respawn beacon, and it's already been looted, but whoever looted it decided to leave something in it.

A kraber.

You light up when you see it.

"Elliott, cover me!"

Darting out from behind the bush, you slide over to the care package and lift the heavy gun from where it's mounted on the supply drop.

"Witt, keep an eye out, there are gas traps everywhere over here. Pretty sure Caustic is his team mate. If you see him, distract him." 

"Guy tends to only get distracted when he's murdering me, but I'll do what I can." Elliott sounds a little scared.

Narrowly avoiding another gas trap, you scale the tallest of the little buildings in the trainyard, one with a second story. You clamber gracelessly onto the roof, trying to get there as fast as you can, because Park never stays in one place for very long.

But he's still there, leaning over that gold deathbox. You lift the enormous sniper -- a much more difficult task than it had been earlier, with Park's arm supporting yours -- and aim down the sights, carefully nudging the crosshairs exactly where you want them.

Carefully, you pull the trigger, recoil nearly knocking you off the roof as your bullet just barely misses the hacker's head.

"Fuck!"

He whirls around and even though you missed, it's still kind of worth it for the look on his face when that bullet barely misses him. You've got about 0.02 seconds before he bolts, though, so this is your last shot. 

After spending what feels like an hour reloading a single bullet -- _ fuck this gun, seriously _ \-- you take a deep breath, and try to remember what you learned at the firing range.

_ Take your time. _

You breathe out.

_ You're not in any rush _

You adjust your aim a little, Park is on the move now. 

Then you gently squeeze the trigger.

_ Thwap! _He goes down in a single, perfect headshot.

_ Beautiful. _

"Holy _ shit!" _ you and Elliott both yell in unison. Then he adds, "Nice fuckin' shot, Jesus. D'you have to be wearing that lace bodysuit when you're doing shit like that? Like, sexiness overload, please hold while Mirage reboots his brain. Seriously, that thing is--"

_ "Elliott," _ you interrupt, "Focus. We can discuss my taste in clothing later. Keep an eye out for that sonofabitch with the gas barrels, he's definitely over by you somewhere. I'm gonna go finish this guy."

Park is down, crawling to the nearest cover -- the tunnel over the train tracks.

"Got it. Be quick, okay? Caustic freaks me the fuck out."

You nod, before remembering he can't see you. "I will. See if you can find yourself a shield in the meantime," you say over the comms.

From the roof, you can see Elliott -- well, one of him, you're not sure if it's flesh or holo -- dart out from the bush the two of you had hidden in, heading for a purple deathbox that's lying in the grass.

Hopping down, cat-like, from your perch on the roof, you see Park has disappeared. He's still downed, you're sure of it, because you saw him crouching behind a white knockdown shield as he crawled away. 

You tug down the zipper on your body suit a few more centimeters.

Jogging over to the train tracks, you approach the tunnel, still brandishing your kraber, for reasons you can't quite explain -- _ Park is a slippery motherfucker, okay? _\-- and peering into the darkness cautiously.

You don't set foot inside the tunnel, not yet. You pause just outside of it, listening. For a few moments, there is only silence.

Then you hear something shift, and a male voice hissing in pain.

_ Got you. _

Park is crouched between two of the four unopened loot crates that line the walls in the middle of the tunnel, and you're pretty confident you're right -- his other team mate is Caustic, or he doesn't have one. Either way, nobody is close enough to help him, at least for a minute.

There's blood streaked down the side of his pretty face, coming from somewhere under that dark hair, presumably where your bullet grazed him. It could have been worse. He'd have been done in one shot without that purple shield. Boom, instant deathbox.

He's on his hands and knees, not unlike you’d been a few days before, when he downed you with that charge rifle. He's glaring at you with those gorgeous dark eyes and bracing for whatever he thinks you're about to do to him.

You're not doing anything just yet. You smile, sauntering over to the unopened loot crates lying opposite the ones he's taken cover between. You could use a short-range weapon, after all. And a helmet. And some other stuff. You make sure to position yourself so as to give him the best possible view of your ass when your bend at the waist to pull open the orange crate, before snagging some of the items within. You repeat the action when you open the crate next to the first one.

When Park realizes you're not going to end him immediately, he relaxes a little.

"Nice shot." You can hear the smirk on his face without even looking at him.

You shrug. "Beginner's luck." 

You cross the tracks, approaching his hiding spot, having still found no close-range weapon. You really don't want to waste another precious kraber shot on this guy, if you can help it. 

Bending to open the crate on the right, you turn to look at him, smiling. "And I had an excellent teacher." 

You move to the final crate, where you finally find a close range weapon: a wingman.

_ Must be my lucky day. _

Snatching the deadly little pistol and the box of heavy ammo, you take a few steps to the side, so you're in full view of Park as you load your weapon. He's staring at the floor, but you catch him stealing a glance at your black lace bodysuit every few moments.

Slipping each bullet into the chamber, you make a show of spinning it once it's fully loaded before snapping it back into place and spinning the gun itself around in your hand, then aiming it right at Park.

He finally makes eye contact, probably assuming this is the end. You keep the gun trained on him, but your other hand reaches out to gently stroke a thumb across the place along his cheekbone where hardware meets human skin. He lets his eyes fall shut, leaning into your touch and looking gorgeous as he does, even with one side of his face dripping blood.

"You know," you say, sliding your hand to his chin. The synthetic skin feels so odd, especially here, where it borders human flesh such that both can be touched at the same time. It's an incredibly strange sensation, but not an unpleasant one. "You look awfully good like this, Park. On your knees."

He gives you a mischievous look. “So do you.” 

You’re blushing now, like a fucking idiot, and you can't resist stroking your thumb across his bottom lip, the same way he'd done to you when he’d had you on your knees.

You feel his tongue flicker over your thumb, and it sends a thrill tingling down your spine. It suddenly occurs to you that he's not yet had the privilege of encountering your legendary finisher, Kiss of Death. You don't often get opportunities to finish the sneaky motherfucker but when you do, you tend to stick to your first finisher. It’s a less flashy takedown, but a much quicker one.

But finishing your very first kraber victim, who also happens to be so fucking hot you can't stop thinking about it, and who totally teased the fuck out of you when the roles were reversed? Yeah, this occasion definitely calls for use of a legendary finisher. If Caustic shows up in the middle of it and murks you, you’ll definitely deserve it. But hey, you only live once, right? Not counting the respawns, of course.

After gently stroking his jaw a few more times, you roughly seize him by the throat, pulling him up onto his knees as his hands come up to grasp your wrist, just like yours had when he'd pulled a similar move on you just days before. He's not even trying to pull your hand away, he's just...holding on.

Bending down a bit, you bring your faces close together.

"You're beautiful on your knees for me, Park," you say with a sly grin. He's blushing bright red. You continue, "And I bet I could teach your mouth a few lessons, too."

Tightening your grip on his throat, you relish the resulting groan that tears itself from Park's chest. You know he's aroused, you can see the thick outline of his hard-on, trapped in those too-tight pants. You nudge it with your boot and he lets out a little sound that's halfway between a sob and a whimper and _ fuck, _ you want to hear that sound again in the very near future. Preferably multiple times.

Bringing your faces so close together that your lips nearly brush against his, you purr, "I might have a dirty mouth, but your mind is far dirtier, darling. _ I shot you in the head, _ I'm about to do it again here shortly, and you? You’re _ hard. _ I could probably make you cum in your pants right now if I wanted to. Bet I could do it without even touching you, let you rub yourself off on my leg like a dog. And you'd do it, wouldn't you? You'd do it because your _ mind _ is what's dirty, Park. Dirtier than my mouth will ever be. It's _ filthy." _

You relish the little groans that keep escaping him. He's straining against your hand now, trying to reach your lips

This is the part where you shoot him in the side of his head, completing the finisher. But you're thinking you might switch it up a little, just this once.

"Look at you," you murmur against his lips. "So eager to be near my dirty mouth."

Then you press his lips against yours, releasing his throat in favor of running your fingers through that gorgeous, soft hair and fisting a handful of it, just in case he needs to be reminded who's in charge.

You pull back and sink your teeth into his plush bottom lip and he fucking _ moans, _ melting into you when you yank his hair a little, pulling his head to the side after a moment to give your mouth access to that beautiful neck.

You're moaning too, now, which is annoying because you need to stay in control. But _ fuck, _ seeing him all soft and shy and submissive like this is making you hot, and you can't help but let out a few muffled groans of your own against the strange inky flesh covering his throat.

You reach down to cup his hard-on, squeezing him through his pants as you continue mouthing that pretty artificial neck. He fucking _ whimpers _ when you do, hips jerking involuntarily forward into your palm a few times, desperate to get some more friction.

When you glance at his face, you see him biting his lip so hard it looks ready to bleed, like it's all he can do to keep his mouth shut. Curious to know what exactly he's trying to keep from escaping his lips, you power up your magnetic charge on the lowest setting and with a wave of your hands, you undo his metal belt buckle without even touching it.

He stares at you in awe and you laugh.

"What? Thought you were the only person in the ring with body modifications?" You wave your fingers in front of his face, close enough that he can touch them, feeling the magnets implanted beneath the skin of each of your fingertips. You can power them on and off at will, control the strength of their magnetic pull, and aim it with some precision. Park seems fascinated, pressing his fingertips into yours, presumably scanning them with the sensors implanted in his own. While he's distracted, you reach down and unbutton his pants with your other hand.

That gets his attention, and he watches, mesmerized, as you magnetically pull the metal zipper down without even touching it.

Then you're fisting his hair again, bringing his lips back to yours, and slipping your hand into his pants, wrapping it around his erection, which is still trapped in his boxers. You give him a few cruel pumps and he gasps, moaning into your mouth and grinding his hips forward.

"P-please…" he sighs it so softly you almost don't hear it, but when you do, it just about makes your brain explode.

You pull back from his mouth, grinning as you move your hand from his hair back to his throat, squeezing a little. 

"I'm afraid I have to finish you now, handsome. But if you need help finishing later, I can arrange that, too." You wink and lean forward as if to kiss him, but instead, just ghost your lips across his own and press the wingman's barrel to his temple. This is the part where most people freeze, realizing what you're about to do, but Park evidently doesn't care. His dick is still hard and tenting his underwear, and his only reaction to feeling a gun being pressed against his head is to lean forward into the hand you have around his neck, straining to feel your lips one last time before you put him down. 

So like an idiot, you let him. When your lips touch again he moans shamelessly and now _ you're _ the one blushing. You lick into his greedy mouth a few times, giving him a little taste of what he desperately wants. But you know if this goes on any longer, you're going to get caught and/or killed, so you fight down the urge to make him put that pretty mouth to work on you right here in the tunnel. Instead, you let him deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth and moaning at the taste of you, even with a fucking _ gun _ pressed to the side of his head.

_ Why is that so fucking hot? _

You pull back, breathless, and take that pretty lower lip of his between your teeth. You bite down hard enough that it makes him gasp.

When he does, you pull the trigger.

_ Got you. _

\----

You don't win the match, which is a bummer, but you and Elliott do manage to take out Caustic, fully eliminating Park's squad, so that feels pretty damn good, regardless.

Once you're absolutely, positively, 110% sure the locker room is empty -- for real this time -- you peel off that lacy black bodysuit (poor Elliott), grab your bath towel, and head for the locker’s room’s shower. 

It's an enormous room with several showerheads and plenty of surface area for other people's supplies. You don't think the other will mind that you leave you razor and body wash in here between showers. Not like anyone uses it anyway. Except Park, apparently.

You're pretty positive you don't have an audience today, but just in case, you decide to play your standard musical fare this time. No more embarrassing pop ballads.

You hit shuffle on your current playlist and step under the warm spray of the shower. The first song that plays is one of your favorites -- in fact, it's the original version of the remixed song you heard playing at the bar the other night.

_ help me _

_ tear down my reason, _

_ help me _

_ it's your sex I can smell, _

_ help me _

_ you make me perfect, _

_ help me become somebody else _

You've always loved this album. It's a masterpiece from start to finish. But not one that's very popular in the current day and age, unfortunately.

_ I wanna fuck you like an animal _

_ I wanna feel you from the inside _

_ I wanna fuck you like an animal _

_ My whole existence is flawed _

_ You get me closer to God _

The music video for the song might be your favorite of all time. Based on the artistic works of Joel-Peter Witkin and Francis Bacon, it explores themes like sexuality, religious oppression, innocence, corruption, and freedom through a series of increasingly strange tableaux: a small girl child in a frilly white party dress, sitting barefoot in a chair. A black man with a cane and a top hat. A pig's severed head, spinning wildly on some sort of machine. A group of elderly white men in suits arranging themselves for a photo where no one smiles. A live monkey bound to a cross. And many other strange little glimpses of strange people doing strange things.

But those aren't the scenes you're interested in. The scenes that pique your interest show a young, thin man with dark hair -- the singer -- standing in the middle of a strange room, his hands bound together and suspended over his head by a rope hanging from the ceiling. He's completely naked, with the exception of the pair of black, elbow-length latex gloves on his arms, and the blindfold that covers his eyes. He's tall and lean, and something about watching him twist against his restraints, moaning against his bound arms -- it's always been the first thing you see in your head when you listen to the song.

But now when you hear it, it's _ Park _ you see in your mind, tied up and naked, writhing with his gloved arms bound over his head, his pretty eyes hidden behind a black blindfold, that gorgeous mouth gasping and muffling its moans against his bicep. He’s all you can think about.

Which is annoying as _ fuck, _ because so far, all the man has done is frustrate the hell out of you, sexually and professionally. But fuck it, maybe an orgasm will get it out of your system so you can focus on getting some _ actual _ intel on this guy. 

You let your hand slip between your thighs, rubbing at your clit in time with the song's pulsing, throbbing beat, and imagining how fucking good Park must look naked. He definitely looks amazing shirtless, as you discovered earlier this week in the very same room you're currently occupying. But you want to see that again, and all the delicious bits of him that you haven't yet laid eyes on.

You moan when you let a finger slip inside, thinking about how fucking _ good _ Park looked in the ring earlier, on his knees. The fucking sounds he was making, _ Jesus, _ just from kissing you. You wonder if he'd make the same sounds kissing the lips between your thighs as he did kissing the pair on your face. The thought makes your face feel hot.

Your favorite part of the song is coming up, a spoken-word poem read so softly you almost can't hear it over the pounding beat unless you know to listen for it. You're not sure why you love it the most, but you do.

_ Through every forest, above the trees _

_ Within my stomach, scraped off my knees _

_ I drink the honey inside your hive _

_ You are the reason I stay alive _

The music goes wild, steadily building towards the song's climax as your thoughts send you barrelling towards a climax of your own. You've managed to stay quiet this far, biting off soft little whimpers here and there, overall not making much noise. But remembering how good Park looked on his knees earlier and imagining him here now, on his knees for you again, begging for you or, _ god, _ putting his _ mouth _ on you -- it's too much, and it has you moaning so lewdly and cumming so quickly that it shocks you a little bit. 

_"Ah! Ah!_ _Mmm, fuck!" _You can't help but cry out when the pleasure hits you, each cresting wave pulling another pathetic little sound out of you.

You're being too loud but you don't really care. Your head falls back against the tile wall as you work yourself through the orgasm, riding through the aftershocks and shuddering each time one hits you.

_ Fuck, _ you think, trying to catch your breath.

_ Well that didn't work. Now I'm even hornier. Great. _

You sigh, breathless and frustrated as you wash the conditioner out of your hair and rinse the suds from your skin -- making extra sure to get_ all _of the bubbles off this time.

Once you've toweled some of the moisture out of your hair, you wrap that same towel around your waist. But before you can take a single step towards the shower room's exit, a familiar voice calls out to you, and from the sound of it, they're right outside the door.

"That was quite a performance," purrs a deep voice with a thick Korean accent. "My favorite one so far, I think. Hope you don't mind having an audience again," he pauses for a moment, turning the corner and leaning against the door frame, looking you up and down. "I was wrong about your voice. It's not pretty. It's beautiful." 

And you suddenly realize he is definitely _ not _ talking about your shower singing because you _ weren't _ singing today, just humming along a little bit here and there.

He's talking about the...vocalizing...that escaped your mouth when you came. He'd been listening. 

_ Fuck. _

And he came here specifically to listen to you, you realize, because unlike last time, he's got all his clothes on, save for that big jacket. Last time was a coincidence. This? This was on purpose.

Your face is so red you can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. And you have no idea what to even say back, especially when he steps into the room, closing some of the distance between you.

"Do you like having an audience, Honeypot?"

_ Oh my god. _

“Depends on who’s watching,” you murmur, sounding far more confident than you feel.

Park steps closer, close enough to touch you, but he doesn't. You’re unable to make eye contact for some irritating reason. 

"Do you think you're feeling up to an encore performance?"

_ Hell fuckin' yes. _

"If you think you can handle it, then sure," you say, hoping _ you _ can handle it. 

You're not entirely sure you can. But you damn sure aren't about to turn him down. Maybe getting this out of your system will make it a little easier to focus on your _ actual _ job which, sadly, has more to it than just fucking this gorgeous man. That’s just a bonus perk.

He is _ right _ up in your personal space now, looking at you like a predator about to pounce. Your back hits the wall of the shower. Park leans forward, close enough you can feel his breath against your throat.

"You smell delicious," he purrs, lips brushing against your neck with every word. "Do you taste as sweet as you smell, Honeypot?"

Your heart is hammering so hard he'll be able to feel it if he gets any closer.

He pulls back from your neck, scanning your body with that artificially-enhanced eye, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Do you taste as sweet as you _ sound?" _

"Why, who’s askin’?" you shoot back with a smirk, having finally collected yourself enough to remember how to flirt.

“Me,” he growls, those gorgeous eyes still roving over you.

“Oh really? And you are who, exactly?” It’s worth a try. Wouldn’t be the first time a guy let something slip while distracted by your...charm.

His expression darkens, like you've bumped up against something dangerous. One of his half-human hands is absentmindedly tracing your collarbones with those strange, synthetic fingertips. His other hand comes up to grasp your chin, slipping a thumb between your lips and pressing down on your tongue.

"Do you think you can cum without a single curse word coming out of this pretty mouth?" he asks, watching you closely.

_ Uh, probably not. _

You give his thumb a lewd little suck before pulling back, gasping, "Wanna find out?"

The words have barely left your lips when suddenly Park's mouth is pressed against them, kissing you almost as desperately as he had in that tunnel in the train yard. He's more aggressive now, though. He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and when you moan, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You’re gasping into his mouth like it’s the first time you’ve ever been kissed, which would be very embarrassing if you could get some blood flowing in the part of your brain that gives a fuck about that kind of thing. You can’t help it, you’re a wreck. You never expected him to be...anything like this. If, a week ago, someone had pointed to Park and told you that in under a week, he'd have you up against the wall of the locker room, trying to muffle your moans in his shoulder as he growled filthy things in your ear, you'd have laughed right in their face.

But here you are. And you're a god damn mess. Park pulls away from your mouth for a moment, pulling his shirt over his head and flinging it onto one of the benches lining the wall.

"God, look at you," you say to nobody in particular. Whoever’s in charge of designing human beings fucking nailed it with this one. He is so...so _ fuckable. _ It’s kind of ridiculous. A week ago, you were pretty sure he was just another edgy fuckboy with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. That might still be the case. But he’s also hotter than hell and mysterious as fuck, a puzzle that you want to solve piece by succulent piece. 

You reach out to touch his throat, unable to resist giving into the urge to feel that strange skin beneath your fingers again. It’s warm, but every time you’ve touched it, you’re surprised how soft it is. You wonder how it would feel against your lips.

Park gives you a dangerous look, and then his mouth is on your neck, sucking a bruise into the skin just above your left collarbone.

You're moaning shamelessly, and you can't stop. Little gasps keep escaping you and every time you finally start to get control of yourself, he does something with that wicked mouth to make you lose it again. It is _ so _ hard not to let a curse word slip out accidentally.

_ "Ah! Nghhhh, _ this is so-- _ ffffffffnnngh _ \--unfair, _ god! _ You're so m-mean _ , _ Crypto… _ mmm," _

He chuckles darkly, one hand sliding from your waist to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze through your towel at the same moment he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck.

_ "Mnngh! _ ...Ffffuuu-- _ ugh, _ please, _ please, _ I need it _ so _ bad…"

You sound absolutely pathetic and cannot give even the tiniest of fucks about that, because all that matters right now is getting this guy to fuck you before you spontaneously combust from sexual frustration. The sexual tension between you is quickly approaching critical mass, and if you don’t get laid soon, it’s liable to start warping the space-time continuum and ripping portals into shit. You need him to fuck you. But getting him to do so without dropping any F-bombs is going to be difficult, especially because right now Park's mouth is as dirty as yours usually is, and it's the hottest fucking thing you have _ ever _ heard.

"You'd let me fuck you right here, wouldn't you? Right up against this wall, _ hmm? _ Filthy thing," he growls right up in your ear, rolling his hips forward and making you moan when you feel how hard he is. He's thumbing the crook of your arm, and you feel his dick throb against your stomach when he finds what he's looking for: the small subdermal birth control device that's implanted beneath the skin near the inside of your elbow. "I bet you'd let me cum inside, too."

_ Oh my _ ** _god. _ ** _ Fuck yes I would. I mean, uh-- _

You can't help the pathetic little sound that escapes you. You have _ never _ heard him talk like this, you're not even sure you've heard him drop so much as a _ "damn it" _ in the ring. It's difficult to reconcile the soft-spoken, silent-but-deadly team mate you know from the arena with the flirtatious, filthy-mouthed creature currently pressing you up against the wall of the locker room's huge shower.

He puts a finger to your lips, reminding you of your current objective: to see if you can make it to orgasm without screaming any four-letter words (except, perhaps, “Park”). He smiles at your needy little whine, then he's slipping that hand beneath the towel that's wrapped around you and sliding those wicked fingers between your legs. You're already so wet just from kissing him, it's dripping down your thighs.

_ "Mmm," _ Park hums, spreading your cunt lips apart with two metal-tipped fingers, then dragging those half-human digits through the copious amount of slickness between them. 

"Is this all for me?" 

You can feel your cheeks burning as you whimper. You're trying not to open your mouth because you know if you do, you’re gonna release a string of words so filthy even Elliott would blush. But you're barely hanging on, and when you feel the metallic pad of his middle finger catch on your clit, you can't help but gasp out, _ "Mmmnngh, fuck!" _

He freezes, and you clap a hand over your mouth. 

_ Mission failed. Shit! _

He pulls back from you, still keeping you caged between his arms and pressed against the shower wall. He's smiling, but it's a dark, dangerous kind of smile, and you have the distinct feeling that you're about to get punished. 

But he just laughs, "You lasted longer than I expected," and then he’s slipping two thick fingers into you, curling them cruelly against your g-spot and silencing your moan with his mouth.

_ "Mmmph!" _ you can't help but whimper against his lips.

When he releases your mouth, you've barely taken a breath before he's attacking your neck, sucking at the side of your throat hard enough you know he's going to leave a mark. 

_ Good, _ a part of you thinks distantly.

You don't know what the fuck you expected from this guy, but it wasn't this, that's for damn sure. He's an absolute scoundrel in a way you can't quite explain, and the shit coming out of his mouth would make even Elliott blush. But he's sweet, too. Firm, but not pushy. Gentle, in some ways. 

But he is _ not _ shy about telling you how badly he wants to fuck you.

"I want to know exactly how sweet the honey in the Honeypot is," he groans against your neck, making you shiver.

_ Oh my god. Dude is better at my damn job than I am. This would be embarrassing if it wasn't so _ _ fucking hot. _

He's mouthing at your throat, one hand tangled in your hair to keep you right where he wants you -- which is up against this fucking wall, apparently, with the fingers of his other hand buried in your cunt, pulling the _ filthiest _ noises out of you. If Silva or Pathfinder were to poke their head into the locker room like before, they'd undoubtedly hear you. You're trying to stay quiet, really, you are. But _ fuck, _ you're only human.

"Fuck! Oh my _ god, _ Park, I-- _ mmmmgh! _\--fuck…" 

Look, words are hard right now. Nobody can really blame you. 

He slips those dexterous fingers out of you and you want to whine because they felt _ so _ good, but when you open your eyes, you see he's lifting them to his mouth, sucking your essence off each of them while his other hand slips between his own legs, squeezing himself through his pants.

_ Jesus fuckin' Christ. _

"Even sweeter than I imagined," he groans, sucking the last of you from his fingers. The look he gives you is criminal then, and then he kneels before you, hands roughly pressing your hips back against the wall. Just seeing him on his knees again like that has you absolutely dripping, and you gasp at the cool air meeting your damp skin when he reaches up to pull away the towel that separates him from your naked body.

Park says something in Korean as his hungry eyes rake over every square inch of newly-exposed skin, and you haven't the foggiest idea what it might mean. But he says it with such a devious look in his eyes, it makes you blush anyway. 

Those cybernetic fingers are slipping up your thighs now, over your stomach, your rib cage, and you can feel the cool metal of his fingertip sensors when he reaches up and fills both of his half-human hands with the soft flesh of your breasts, squeezing them gently and thumbing your nipples teasingly. You sigh, wondering why it feels so unnaturally, freakishly good -- because it fucking _ does, _ and you want those strange hands of his touching every last inch of you. The synthetic skin covering half of his palm drags deliciously against the skin of your breasts, and you gasp when you feel him pinch a nipple between those odd, metallic fingertips.

And then he's lifting one of your legs over his shoulder and leaning in, pressing those pretty lips against your inner thigh, dragging his tongue over the sensitive flesh there and gently sinking his teeth into it. You can't help but whimper, hands reflexively tangling in that soft, dark hair as he sucks and licks his way up the inside of your thigh.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall a little harder and puts that perfect mouth where you've wanted it since the moment you first felt those pretty lips against your own.

_ "Ah! _ Oh god, Crypto, _ mmmmgh!" _

There's no way you're going to be able to keep your mouth shut. You can't help it, his lips are so soft and his tongue, _ fuck, _ his tongue feels so good _ , _ and he's lapping at your cunt like it's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, sucking your clit between those plush lips and flicking that warm, wicked tongue against it.

You're trying not to pull his hair but _ fuck _ , he's so damn _ good _ at this, you can’t resist grinding your hips against his mouth. 

"Please, please, _ please _ don't stop, oh my god, _ fuck!" _you whimper, sounding as pathetic and needy as you feel.

You curse when he slips those thick fingers back into you, twisting roughly, hooking against the bundle of nerves at your core that makes your eyes roll back, makes your hips jerk forward a few times, outside of your control. He's timing those wicked fingers with the pace of his tongue on your clit and you're so fucking wet you can feel it dripping down onto his chin, like he's eating a particularly juicy peach and being especially messy about it.

And it is _ wrecking _ you, seeing him do this, seeing him do it _ like _ this. Feeling him drink you down like you're the last thing he’ll ever taste, eating you like a man starved -- it's the hottest thing you've ever seen, you're pretty sure. Which is fucking _ saying _ something, as you have witnessed more than a few ridiculously hot events thus far in your career. But seeing him on his knees, pinning your hips to the wall and moaning into you like this? _ Fuck, _you are done for. Most guys do a few cursory clit licks and then try to fuck you with their tongue for 10 minutes until you get bored and finish the job for them, cumming within, like, one minute of touching your own clit. Most guys are also clueless idiots in the bedroom, though, if you're being completely honest. 

So discovering that Crypto is, in fact, _ not _ an idiot when it comes to human female anatomy? Yeah, that does something to you. Something that makes you feel like you're going to cum on his tongue any second now. 

He's digging his fingers into your hips, moaning against your cunt and making you tremble under his mouth. Every few licks, he slurps your clit into his mouth, battering it with that devious tongue, _ fuck. _Yeah, you’re a goner.

"S-so close, p-please--" you gasp out, desperate to cum.

“Such a good girl, asking nicely,” he growls, looking up at you deviously as you feel your face flush at his words.

Park roughly slips a third finger into you, this one covered in synthetic skin. The stretch feels so good it has you trembling, sure you'd have slid down the wall by now if he weren't holding you up. He sucks your clit back into his mouth and begins rapidly flicking his tongue over it again, thrusting all three fingers roughly into your dripping cunt a few times before curling them cruelly against your g-spot as he laps at your clit, and you can't go on, it pushes you over the edge. 

“Fuck, Crypto, yes--_ mmmnngh!” _

You cum against his mouth with a needy cry, shuddering as he laps up your slick and groans at the way you tremble, how you whimper each time his tongue drags against your oversensitive clit, showing no sign of stopping.

_ "Ah!--ah!--ah! _ Ohgodfuck, Park, _ nghhh _\--please!"

You might sound a little pathetic but Park evidently doesn't care, because he’s not even slowing down. He keeps twisting his fingers and sucking your clit and pulling unbelievably shameless, begging moans out of you. You’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.

He occasionally pulls his mouth back from you, so he can get a better look at you as he fucks you with those long fingers, the pad of his thumb brushing against your swollen clit. You can barely keep your eyes open, it’s so intense it almost hurts but it feels good but you can’t cum again, not this soon, you’re sure.

You’re shuddering, trembling from head to toe and whimpering softly with each stroke of his fingers. Your back arches away from the wall when he hits a particularly sensitive spot that makes your legs start to shake.

“You’re going to cum for me again, Honeypot.” It’s not a demand, he states it as if it were a scientific fact.

“I c-c-can’t! N-not this--_ ah! _\--soon, I ca-an’t--” Proper enunciation is proving to be quite difficult for you at the current moment.

“You can,” he says, looking up at you with a wicked grin. “And you will.”

Then his mouth is back on you, tonguing your clit, sucking at it as he buries his fingers deep and curls them upward. It only takes a few more swipes of his tongue over your clit and then you’re forced over the edge a _ second _ time, cumming painfully hard against his wicked mouth with a pathetic little cry. A few pleasured tears spill over onto your cheeks and you gasp as every single muscle in your body tenses up for a moment. Park’s eyes are fixed on you, watching your every move, clearly enjoying how easily each pass of his tongue has you shuddering with overstimulation.

Trembling with aftershocks, you whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, sucking each one of them clean. Licking his lips, he looks back up at you and says, "So fucking sweet."

_ Holy fuck. _

You've decided this must be why the Syndicate wants him so bad -- he's better at your job than you are. That mouth could have _ anyone _spilling their darkest secrets in no time flat.

He's standing again, and when he leans in to kiss you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. He's pressed his thigh between your own, and for the first time since this started, you realize just how fucking _ hard _ he is.

You sink your teeth into that soft bottom lip and when he pulls back, gasping, it's your turn to kneel, unbuckling his belt with your magnetic charge again. The needy little sound he makes in the back of his throat when you free his cock from the confines of those ridiculously-tight pants is one you relish. You definitely plan to pull a few more little noises out of him, if you can help it.

_ "Nghhh," _ the sound he makes when you take him into your mouth is, as far as you can tell, neither English _ nor _ Korean, but it's the hottest fucking thing you've ever heard him utter, because he sounds so fucking _ desperate. _

He's got his forearm leaning against the wall for support as he looks down at you, trying to keep his breathing even and doing a not-so-great job of it. You gaze up at him through long lashes, and the look on his face when your eyes meet is so devious it sends a bolt of lust piercing right through you. He's biting his lip, gazing down at you with an expression halfway between awe and hunger, looking like he's barely resisting the urge to tangle both those artificially-enhanced hands in your hair and thrust into your throat.

_ Maybe he needs some...encouragement. _

You swallow him down as far as you can, pressing your face into his lower belly and making him gasp out a ragged, _ "Fuck!" _ as a hand reflexively comes to rest on the back of your head.

_ Who's got a dirty mouth now? _

Watching him lose his composure a little bit is immensely satisfying. And hot, _ god. _ Really, _ really _ hot.

His hips are thrusting forward gently and his face is a mask of pure bliss. He whines when you finally pull off him for a moment, wrapping a hand around his cock instead and stroking firmly.

"See, you understand now, right? It's impossible to keep a mouth like mine out of trouble." You wink mischievously, then swallow him back down.

_"Ah!_ _Ssibal!"_

You're not a language expert, but you're pretty sure that's Korean for, _ "Holy shit this girl can suck some dick, god dayum." _

Or... something to that effect. Hopefully.

Both hands are tangled in your hair now, not pushing or pulling, more like holding on for dear life. His hips actually shake a little when you swallow with him still buried in your throat, and you feel his grip on your hair tighten.

"God, _ jebal…ah!" _He shudders when you pull off him, tonguing the head of his cock as you stroke the shaft teasingly. He lets go of your hair to run a hand through his own, the other resting against the wall again, like staying upright is somewhat of a challenge for him right now.

You're licking at the base of his cock, still jerking him off, and when you gently suck at the underside, you feel him throb in your hand, and against your lips.

That's not the best part, though. The best part is the _ whimper _ he gasps out when you begin pumping him quicker.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" you ask, smiling up at him deviously. "You gonna let me taste you?" You suck just the head of his cock between your lips, stroking under it with your tongue.

He fucking _ whines, _ squeezing his eyes shut, throbbing in your hand -- and your mouth -- and nodding desperately. He's close, you can tell from the needy little grunts escaping him each time he thrusts forward.

With no warning, you take him all the way into you throat again, feeling his cock twitch between your lips and loving the ragged, strangled noise that you force out of him by doing so. His eyes are still shut, brow creased almost like it hurts, lips bitten pink, parted and gasping out something you can't understand, presumably in Korean. _ Dammit. _

When you can sense he's just about to blow, your mouth releases him and you squeeze the base of his dick, smiling up at him with a devious grin.

His eyes fly open and he lets out a pained little sob, giving you a look of confusion and utter desperation, almost begging for it.

Almost.

See, that's the problem. You can't just let him have what he wants _ that _ easily. You want to hear him beg first.

You start stroking his cock again, slowly. He gasps when you drag the pad of your thumb over the head.

"Why--what--"

"I think you know what I want, Park. You gotta say the magic word if you want your wishes to come true." You smile up at him as innocently as you can.

Park groans, thrusting into your hand a few times. So you let go of him, enjoying the frustrated grunt that tears itself out of him when you do.

He gives you a dangerous look. _ "Jebaljuseyo--" _

"Oh no no no no _ no, _ darling," you interrupt. "In English, please, if you don't mind."

His cheeks are bright pink now, which is fucking adorable, and you make a mental note to find out what other things make him blush this much, because fucking with him like this is _ way _ too much fun.

He groans again, slamming his fist against the wall in frustration as he looks down at you on your knees, licking your lips suggestively and gazing up at him seductively with eyes full of mischief.

_ "Ssibal! _ Fuck-- _ fine. _ Please. Please don't stop, _ please _ let me cum," he lets his eyes fall shut, exhaling. "Please, I-- _ ah!" _

He gasps, eyes popping back open when you wrap your hand around him and start gently pumping his cock again. 

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that last part," you say, slowing your movement and making him whine in frustration.

"Please! Honeypot, _ please. _ Please...keep going. Please let me cum, _ ssibal, _ I n-need it so badly…" his hips are jerking forward into your hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more _ anything, please. _

_ This is so fucking hot, oh my god. _

You never, ever imagined he'd be...anything like the way he is now. Hot as fuck, first of all. Kinky as fuck, too. But also, so goddamned _ needy. _ He's far from the first man you've had on his knees for you, but he is by far the most beautiful. A part of you wonders, rather distantly, what he'd look like, what he'd _ sound _ like, blindfolded and tied up in your bed, begging you to fuck him. Just thinking about it makes your mouth water. You file that thought away so you can return to it later for further... investigation. Right now, there are more urgent matters to attend to.

His eyes are shut again as he continues thrusting into your grip, chest heaving, still pleading with you to put your mouth back on him.

_ "Jebal...jigeum pil-yohae, _ please…"

Who are you to deny him? You always were a sucker for a pretty face. And a pretty voice. And a pretty dick…

You drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, and the sound that comes out of him is absolutely obscene, it's not even a word, it's just a strangled, needy cry for more.

Sucking him back between your lips, you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock a few times before deep-throating him, moaning around his throbbing cock and enjoying how fucking pathetic he sounds when you do.

_ Serves him right. That's what you get for sneaking up on me and getting me all flustered and shit all the time, buddy. _

His hands have returned to your hair, stroking through it gently and massaging your scalp with those metal-tipped fingers, the same way he had that day in the ring, right before he...finished you.

He's clearly trying to control himself, but you can feel him shaking with need each time you take him deep. A part of you is very curious to see what happens when he loses control. He's gently thrusting into your mouth, one hand coming up to brace himself against the wall again as he leans forward against it, looking down so he can watch you suck him off. 

Pulling off for a moment, you give him a devilish smirk and say, "You don't have to be this gentle, Park, and I know you don’t _ want _ to be." You press his hand firmly against the back of your head. "If you want it, _ take it." _

He groans at your words, fisting your hair far more tightly than he had been before as you take him deep. He's cursing, gripping your hair, thrusting between your lips and moaning each time he hits the back of your throat.

_ "Ye, meomchuji masibsio--mmmgh!" _

He's twitching on your tongue now, thrusts becoming a little sloppy, the tone of his begging so deliciously wanton, you never want him to stop.

"Oh god, _ fuck--!" _ He thrusts deep into your mouth, feeling you moan around him, and that's all it takes. He's pulsing between your lips, on your tongue, and you can feel each spurt of hot cum as it paints the back of your throat. You swallow around him and he shudders, yanking your mouth off him and looking at you with his own hanging open as he desperately gasps for breath. 

You catch the little drop of cum that's slipped out of the corner of your mouth, sucking it off your middle finger and winking at him.

He's still standing there, bracing himself against the wall and breathing heavily when you get to your feet, standing on your tip-toes and reaching up to guide his mouth to yours, planting a surprisingly chaste kiss on his pretty lips, considering what your own lips just finished doing.

"You know what I think?" you ask, pulling back from his mouth to lean forward and bring your lips near one of those inky black ears. "I think you fucking _ love _ this dirty mouth, Park. I think it turns you on. And I don't think this is the first time you've cum while thinking about it. It's just the first time you've cum _ in _ it while thinking about it."

Park is speechless, still gaping at you, but he's suddenly gone rather red in the face.

Plucking your towel from the ground and wrapping it around your chest once more, you step around him and head back towards the main locker room area. Before you turn the corner, you look back at him, smiling, and say, "Let me know if you've got any more lessons to teach this dirty mouth. I’ve been told I’m a quick study."

With another wink and a wicked grin, you disappear around the corner, just leaving him there -- pants-half off, cock dripping, eyes wide, still breathless from orgasm and blushing from your words.

\----

You manage to keep your shit together long enough to get back to your bedroom, where you promptly flop onto the bed and squeal into your pillow like an idiot.

_ Jesus fucking Christ. Did that really happen? Shit, that was...that was _ _ nuts. _

Your hair is still a little damp from the shower. You feel like you're floating, which is kind of concerning. You also find yourself wishing you had something warm to cuddle up next to, which is even more concerning, because there is absolutely no room for something like that in your life right now, especially with him. 

You tell yourself it's only because he looks so damn good on his knees, or because that fucking voice sounds so delicious whispering filthy things in your ear, or because your skin tingles everywhere he touches you, but you know deep down...it's a little bit more than that.

Only a little bit, though.

It's been a long day, and you're hungry, but you're also exhausted. Once your head hits the pillow, you know you're not getting back up for at least a few hours.

\--

You wake up 6 hours later. 4:36AM, and you're just...up now. _ Great. _

The events of your last waking hours come rushing back and make you gasp as you remember exactly what you got up to in that locker room earlier. 

You grab your phone, trying to decide what the hell to write in your notes for the previous day.

** _Friday:_ ** _ Had an incredibly awkward encounter in the ring. And the locker room. _

** _Saturday:_ ** _ Hungover as fuck. _

** _Sunday:_ ** _ Researched target’s online presence. Found nothing. Dude is a ghost. _

** _Monday:_ ** _ Had ridiculously sexy encounter at the firing range. And in the ring. And in the locker room... _

Oh yeah. This was the juicy intel you were getting paid for. Totally.

You sighed. You'd gotten into his pants, but what you really needed was to get into his room, get him distracted, and get a chance to snoop. Unfortunately, he'd proven to be pretty good at catching _ you _ off-guard, instead of the other way around. And then coming on so strong you were too shocked to even know how to react, let alone do your actual job.

_ Seriously, the Syndicate must wanna hire him or something. That's the only explanation. _

\------

"How far have things gone," asks the man in the mask. "Sexually."

You almost choke on your drink.

"Uhh, well they're uh, definitely getting sexual. And it's him initiating, so far." You hate that you're actually blushing at the memory. Getting all the dirty details is pretty much your job, but for some reason, telling the masked man about it makes you feel weird. "But no, we haven't sealed the deal yet. Trust me, you'll know the second I get access to his bedroom. At the rate things are going, it'll be soon."

"Make it happen. We are...curious to see his reaction."

_His reaction to what, getting laid?_ _Okay...something tells me he's pretty practiced as far as that goes._

"Will do. I'll keep you posted." You get up from the booth, turning to go.

"One more thing," says the masked man.

You turn to face him again. "Yes?"

You can't see his face, but the tone of the man's voice makes you nervous when he speaks. 

"When you return to your quarters on the drop ship, you will find a new outfit hanging in your closet. Should you find yourself...struggling to attract his attention, use it to your advantage. He'll like it. Not that we doubt your many talents, of course."

_ The fuck? How do you know what kind of women's fashion he's into. Ugh, this guy is such a creep... _

"I'll...take your word for it. Thanks for the tip." You smile politely and give a little wave, trying not to seem as creeped-out as you actually are.

_ Wonder what this new outfit is gonna look like. Poor Elliott. _

Grabbing another drink from the bar, you make your way back to the other legends, giggling at Eliott’s goofy wave. You learned a lot of interesting details about your fellow legends when you tagged along for group outings like this. But it wasn’t helping you currently, because Park never came out to these little gatherings. 

You sip your drink, watching Silva harass Ajay into hitting the dance floor. Perhaps the next time the team goes out drinking, you should stay behind on the ship, see if you can’t find out what Park gets up to when everyone else is gone…

\----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo Part 3 incoming soon. I promise actual penis-in-vagina sex is happening, y'all. Crypto fucks. You heard it here first, kids! Keep an eye out for a Spider Byte update this week. It's done, just gotta edit.
> 
> I'm going to a con in my Wraith costume today! I s2g I'll make a Twitter or Tumblr or some shit soon, as I can no longer confine my Apex thirst to this website alone.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave opinions, questions, complaints, and depraved suggestions in the comments, please!

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel? Yeah, I'll take that.
> 
> Absolute filth incoming in part 2, don't y'all worry ur lil slutty butts about that. That and the next chapter of Spider Byte, coming ASAP! 
> 
> Also sorry the reader is an actual idiot in this fic. She's based on someone I know IRL: me. I don't have the cool magnet powers though, which is a goddamned tragedy tbh.


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